


never change

by BlackJacketsandPens



Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: IF NO ONE ELSE WILL MAKE CONTENT FOR THIS I WILL, M/M, set in amaurot, stop flirting and move the plot along.txt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-31
Updated: 2020-01-31
Packaged: 2021-02-25 14:48:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,457
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22497847
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlackJacketsandPens/pseuds/BlackJacketsandPens
Summary: “But nonetheless, never change, my dear Emet-Selch. I don’t know what I would do without you.”“And the same goes for you,” Emet-Selch responded as the doors slid open again. “Never change, my dear Lahabrea.”They will, eventually, change too much. But not today, on this day far in the past. Today they are who they once were, and today they are together.
Relationships: Solus zos Galvus | Emet-Selch/Lahabrea
Comments: 4
Kudos: 11





	never change

When the door of Lahabrea’s office opened, he thought little of it --- or rather, he didn’t even hear it. The Speaker was bent over his desk, hunched over an ever-increasing pile of sketches, a thick sheaf of notes beside his elbow detailing his most recent Concept; a wonderful, useful design, he was not too arrogant to think, but--- ah, regardless of his current difficulty, he _would_ finish it. He always did. And he was not about to stop his work until he did so.

Perhaps a bad habit, but it was one that would never be cured.

That didn’t mean, however, that his closest companions did not know just how to deal with it, and in one certain man’s case, that involved draping himself bonelessly across his desk, peering up at him through his crimson mask, an exaggerated pout on his face. “Pay attention to me,” Emet-Selch ordered, whining, though his eyes sparkled beneath the porcelain that concealed his features.

“No,” Lahabrea countered, having rescued his work in the nick of time, holding the papers above his head and glaring down at the mass of black robes and unruly white hair --- short, now, still growing back out after that… _mishap_ with Hythlodaeus that had required he cut it all off, and a shame that was, Lahabrea had always preferred to see it long --- that had forcibly acquired his attention anyway. “I am _working_ , Emet-Selch, as you so flagrantly ignored. Leave me be, I’m not finished.”

Emet-Selch simply stuck his tongue out, a childish gesture. “You haven’t been finished for near to a week,” he pointed out, whine disappearing from his voice to be replaced with teasing, matching the mischievous smile that’s settled on his face. “My _dear friend_ ,” he said fondly, using the term of endearment that made Lahabrea’s cheeks color slightly even now. “You do realize you haven’t left your office in all that time. _Again_. It isn’t ignoring your busyness when you’re ignoring your self-care first.”

“So you keep saying,” Lahabrea grumbled, gently laying down his papers beside Emet-Selch’s head, staring down at him unhappily. “I am _not_ leaving this Concept half-finished, no matter what you say,” he replied petulantly. “I am well aware that disregarding my well-being is...not the wisest course of action, I always have been. You know that. I simply---”

“I know,” Emet-Selch cut him off, voice gentle as he shifted to slide off the desk, coming around to where Lahabrea sat to --- with a _galling_ lack of propriety that made Lahabrea flush in embarrassment and pray no one else decided to enter the office --- perch upon his lap, draping an arm around him and resting his forehead against the other man’s temple. “Truly, your devotion to your work and your dedication to perfection is admirable, one of the reasons you were promoted to Lahabrea,” he murmured. “You’ve always been like this, you know I know that better than most. Don’t think I came here to drag you off to sleep--- though it _is_ tempting, and your lovely little assistant would be pleased, I’m sure...” He leaned back, and though his face was hardly visible through the mask, Lahabrea knew the expression upon it well, raised eyebrows to match the quirk of his lips. “Tell me, my dear Hephaestus. What troubles you with this project of yours? Mayhap a fresh pair of eyes will help.”

Lahabrea let out a deep sigh. “Don’t you have someone else to bother?” He protested, though the defeated slump of his shoulders told of his concession already. “Hythlodaeus, perhaps, or Kore? She is always willing to entertain you, and you well know it.” His companion just smiled at him still, and he groaned, but gave in, leaning into the figure perched on his lap with another sigh. “You win, Hades, you incorrigible nuisance,” he muttered at last, letting his own arm snake around the other’s waist to balance him better. “Now stop flattering me and be serious if you truly intend to help.”

“I’m always serious,” Emet-Selch declared brightly. “And I will stop flattering you when it stops _working_ , dear Heph.” 

“I _will_ shove you off,” Lahabrea threatened with no real heat. “Ancestors, you are _terrible_. Truly. Why were you selected to be Emet-Selch, again? What sort of wisdom did the others have in choosing _you_ for the seat?”

“Well, it was either me or _Hythlodaeus_ , remember,” Emet-Selch said, laughter in his voice at the horrified groan that escaped his companion’s mouth at the thought. “And luckily for all of you, he turned it down. He far prefers his seat at the head of the Architects. But to answer your question, you know as well as I the answer to that. You just hate admitting it.”

“Yes, yes, you brat,” Lahabrea grumbled fondly. “I know well your unsurpassed talent in the Sight and your exacting memory for detail, just as well as you know my...how did you put it? Dedication and devotion?” He reached to tug a few strands of that fine white hair, scolding and teasing all at once. “Forgive me for not wishing to injure you, should I inflate your head any larger and you lose your balance.”

“Your consideration for my safety is admirable,” Emet-Selch replied, still sounding fond and amused. “Far be it from me to protest against such genuine concern!” He tugged a few strands of Lahabrea’s blond hair, thicker and a bit longer and beginning to tangle from a lack of recent brushing, in turn. “I am flattered, truly I am. What have I done to earn such affection from the _esteemed_ Lahabrea, I wonder?”

“I wonder that sometimes, too,” Lahabrea grumbled warmly, rolling his eyes beneath his own mask and shaking his head. No, no, they both knew the answer to that all the same --- they had been at odds at first, in their earliest years of studies, both talented students that had very different ways of learning, and their tutors had thought it best to bid them work together, that they could learn from one another’s strengths and weaknesses. It had been...unpleasant, at first, but that had changed in time, and...here they were. Both of them Convocants, their talents recognized, given the ability to do their utmost for their beloved people. None loved Amaurot more than Hades, of that he was sure, with his ability to see the shimmer and glow of every soul, every life, to see the flow to and from the Underworld and the cycle they all were beholden to. And none was more devoted to his craft than himself, he was also certain. They worked well together, and always had.

Certainly they had...decided that pursuing the paperwork for a _binding_ relationship was...unwise, for the rather volatile mixture that was the two of them; he doubted that they would be able to raise little ones, and that sort of binding contract was only meant for those who intended to do just that. But other relationships, _dear friends_ , were just as common and just as valued; indeed the only difference between those and bound partners were their ability to file for the paperwork to raise a child. It was far from rare to see a household of several or more, partners and their dear ones gathered under one roof. Lahabrea thought that was a bit overmuch, personally; he was content with what he had. 

“Heph, have you dozed off on me?” Emet-Selch teased, and he shook his thoughts off, swatting at the playful hand in his hair. 

“Hush, no, I have not, stop that,” he huffed, taking his compeer’s hand and squeezing it in a gentle warning. “I was thinking. You _do_ know what that is, yes? It does seem on occasion that you are unfamiliar with the concept.”

“Rude!” Emet-Selch whined, but his smile gave his true disposition away. “Now, if you’re done losing yourself to thought, my dear, tell me what you’ve been up to. I _do_ intend to help, after all. That was no lie.”

Lahabrea brightened, shifting the two of them slightly so he could get at his notes and sketches, shuffling through the sheaf of paper deftly with one hand. “Ah, yes, my Concept,” he said, smile stretching across his face as he spoke--- Emet-Selch watched him with open fondness, as he did; it was always a delight to watch the Speaker speak, especially on his Creations--- his open adoration of all that he would shape with his hands was what set him apart, in the Archivist’s opinion. An endearing quality that had finally been in part what had drawn him to the...otherwise occasionally rather frustrating man. “A sentient incendiary,” he explained, shuffling the papers to show Emet-Selch the formulas and diagrams and notes, all written in his small, delicate, handwriting. “For mining operations and the like. Can you imagine how that would aid that sort of work? With a mind of their own, they could seek passages in need of expansion, or caches of minerals and ore that need loosening, or even trapped workers that need aid! The dangers of the occupation would be that much lessened, and--- see, the explosion itself would not _harm_ the creature, only disperse its aether; easily gathered up and restored to its original form! Reusable, and--- look here, look, I’ve even devised a subset of them whose aether dispersal can in turn form additional, smaller incendiaries!” His eyes shone beneath the mask. “And for climes in which adding heat is unwise or impossible, you can easily adjust the elemental flow of their aether to give them a different aspect. I’m certain that would be appreciated by some of the other Convocants, wouldn’t you? Mitron for certain, at the very least.”

“Alright, alright, I’m sold,” Emet-Selch said fondly, warmly. “They sound delightful, Heph, and useful besides. Anything that could prevent undue harm to our people is something you know I will love. It’s wonderful. Now, what seems to be the problem?” He reached out to flip through some of the designs, shifting his hand to probe half-finished concept matrix that floated there half-forgotten. “I see no errors or flaws in the Concept itself…”

“There isn’t, of course,” Lahabrea muttered petulantly. “The problem is…” He flushed, somewhat embarrassed, but then sighed. There was no shame in admitting one’s shortcomings, of course, especially to one offering their aid. “...I cannot decide on an _appearance_.” He reached around his companion to tap the scattered sketches. “I have spent _days_ on it, but I’ve yet to conceive of a satisfactory design...nothing seems to work right, and whenever I believe I’ve settled upon something, I see three new flaws and come up with a dozen new ideas. It is...difficult.” He watched Emet-Selch flip through the sketches, eyes soft with admiration--- Lahabrea’s artwork, his sketches, were always some of the loveliest things to lay eyes on, the strokes of graphite delicate and gentle, the detail fine and exquisite, as if the objects and creatures could come to life upon the page itself. “What say you, my dear friend?” He asked at length. “Do you have any ideas, Hades?”

“I think so, yes,” Emet-Selch said finally, laying the sketches down. “I believe your designs so far have much merit, but I think the problem is simply an overabundance of ideas. Which is normal for you, really, but your excitement with this particular Concept has caused you to simply...be unable to run out of them.” The appraisal was frank and simple, as all good critique should be, and Lahabrea sighed. “I do think, though, I can put together some of the best aspects you’ve come up with into something singular.” He smiled, offering his hands. “Come, Heph-- shall we? Proof of concept, before we embed it into the matrix.”

Lahabrea smiled back. “And I suppose you intend to haul me off to my apartment after we finish?” He asked, and Emet-Selch simply laughed. Not, that he supposed, he’d mind that so much. So long as his Concept was completed and ready for a proper presentation to the Convocation...he couldn’t argue with a little rest as a reward. Or anything else the other man had in mind.

That said, he took Emet-Selch’s hands, and closed his eyes. “You provide the base of it,” Emet-Selch murmured. “I will shape its form.” They had always worked well, Creating in tandem, shaping what they saw in their minds’ eyes, their souls twining together in the act of sharing aether, sharing _themselves_ with one another as they shaped something into being. It was a song without audible melody, played upon existence itself, beauty and life contained within their work. They were not two, while they worked, but one-- something useful, but at the same time potentially intimate, and there were no boundaries between them here and now, or ever. It was how they had begun their relationship, and even now the closeness was something to be cherished.

The weight of the aether between them spun and coalesced, growing heavy with life and sparking with the fire aspected aether that formed the core of the Creation, and then it was finished. They both knew of its completion in unison, and broke their grip on one another’s hand as the hum of their work ended, and together they looked down upon their work, the concept in miniature, no larger than a child’s plaything. 

The incendiary floated there between them, small chattering noises escaping it, and Lahabrea took in its design with a faint smile growing upon his face. It was simple enough, almost absurdly so-- perfectly round, with a pair of coal-bright eyes and a broad grin that stretched along half its circumference to make a face of sorts, a pair of stubby arms sticking out of its sides to grip or hold if necessary, and a protrusion from its head, like the fuse of a traditional explosive; it was ink black, with shimmering patches of a fiery red-orange like it burned from within, giving it the overall look of a hot coal in and of itself. “Of course you made it _round_ ,” Lahabrea said, fond and dryly amused, poking it gently with a finger and smiling as it nipped at him. “You and your obsession with the spherical shape, what _is_ it with that?” 

“Round things are _cute_ ,” Emet-Selch said stiffly, smiling as well. “And you cannot deny that it makes our little Creation quite endearing. And besides, being an incendiary, a round shape suits it, don’t you think? I think it’s adorable.”

“Well, I suppose nothing can be _perfect_ ,” Lahabrea replied with a teasing smirk. “But it will suffice. I...cannot deny that it is endearing, I’ll admit. It’s shape really is your signature, I suppose. And yet I cannot help but feel...” He hums. “...your mark is a bit too obvious; what about mine?”

“Oh, Heph, you are everything else!” Emet-Selch teased. “Shape aside, look at it--- it is fire and passion and a penchant for occasionally _exploding_...I cannot think of anything more fitting for a creation of yours. Trust me, it cannot be mistaken for mine alone, my dear friend.” He tapped its antenna, watching it nip at his finger, and smiled. “Definitely yours.”

“I don’t know whether you just insulted or complimented me,” Lahabrea said with a snort. “But I suppose I’ll take it. Here, pass me the concept matrix.” Emet-Selch did so, and it was a simple task to dismiss the aether of the little Creation, allowing it to collect within the matrix and complete the design. Hefting the orb in a hand, he sat it back upon the desk and sighed in relief. “I suppose all that remains is to present it to the others,” he said, slumping in his seat. “And that, I suppose, will wait until you finish _manhandling_ me.”

“Don’t call it that, that’s so _undignified_ ,” Emet-Selch teased, leaning forward to grasp the edge of Lahabrea’s mask with gentle fingers, tugging it off to reveal his face, eyes lined with shadows. “I’m taking care of you, my dear friend. That’s all. You’ve finished your task, and earned your rest. Will you not oblige me, now?”

Lahabrea hummed quietly, shifting to take Emet-Selch’s mask off in turn; his eyes were the color of the Underworld, it was said, a mark of the Sight--- a vivid pale green that seemed to see far too much. Beautiful eyes. His own golden ones paled in splendor. “I don’t see any more reason not to,” he confessed, voice soft. “I am finished, and you never _can_ be denied what you want, Hades...” 

“No,” Emet-Selch murmured. “Never. It is a flaw, I suppose. I _am_ rather possessive.” Possessive of what he wants and what he loves, and terribly lazy at times. And Lahabrea can be too proud, and forgets too often to care for himself in the midst of a project that has stolen his focus. No one is perfect, but that is why they have one another, to make up for those flaws. It is a _community;_ no one stands alone, and all weaknesses are bolstered by the strengths of those beside you. And their flaws do balance one another out--- Lahabrea’s focus and his own lethargy, his abundance of care for those he loves and Lahabrea’s lack of care for himself...no wonder they work well together, always have and always will.

That thought in mind and a smile on his face, he leaned in to kiss Lahabrea, gentle and soft, and let his forehead rest upon his and linger. “Come away with me now, then,” he said. “The day is yet young, and you have time to rest before tomorrow.”

“I cannot argue with that,” Lahabrea murmured, breath soft against Emet-Selch’s face. “Just for today, now that I am done.”

Emet-Selch laughed, moving to return Lahabrea’s mask to his face and stilling long enough for his own to be replaced, before standing, offering a hand up. When Lahabrea took it, he smiled in mischief, tugging him to his feet only to dip him dramatically, kissing him again briefly as he sputtered, cheeks flushing to match the crimson of his mask. “Your reward awaits, my dear Speaker,” he said fondly, allowing him to right himself and straighten his robes. “Shall we go?”

“One of these days, you’ll learn what _propriety_ means, my dear friend,” Lahabrea muttered. “And one of these days you’ll learn _tact_.” Today would clearly not be that day, though, as Emet-Selch simply laughed and shook his head, taking his hand to tug him out of his office and down the hall.

“Perhaps I will!” He said cheerily as they walked. “And perhaps one day _you_ will learn to be less ill-tempered and contrary. But I do not see either of those things happening any time soon, sad to say, so we shall both simply deal with each other’s shortcomings.”

“Well, I have put up with yours for a long while already,” Lahabrea responded with a wry smile. “So I _suppose_ I can continue to do so. If you don’t mind putting up with mine.”

“I wouldn’t be here if I did,” Emet-Selch said over his shoulder. “You know that better than anyone. I would never put such time or effort into something I did not wish to do.” They got to the elevator and he pressed the button to take them to the Capitol’s lobby, and leaned against Lahabrea as they began to descend. “You and Kore both are my dearest of companions...well, the ones I _chose_ , at any rate. One cannot choose one’s siblings, after all, as Hythlodaeus will never cease to remind me.” But the point still stood; he chose Hephaestus as much as he chose his beloved Kore, his two most precious of people. And he would have been long gone if he had not thought every moment of his time and effort spent on them was well worth it. And so it was.

“And you are one of mine, as much as you give me cause to regret it on occasion,” Lahabrea responded, again tugging on his hair gently. “But nonetheless, never change, my dear Emet-Selch. I don’t know what I would do without you.”

“And the same goes for you,” Emet-Selch responded as the doors slid open again. “Never change, my dear Lahabrea.”

They drove each other mad at times, they did, but they knew that it was how the other was, how they were together--- and neither would give that up for all the world. Not that they would ever need to; in this world, this city, all was well. All would be well. And nothing would ever change, not between them or their loved ones.

That was how it would always be.

**Author's Note:**

> I will get people to join this rowboat if I have to write all the content singlehandedly. Ship these idiots with me, they ruined my life by not shutting up and getting on with it at least twice in this fic. Stop flirting and move the plot along you idiots! Terrible, just terrible.
> 
> Yes, I did add in some headcanon here, namely Lahabrea's real name (Hephaestus), Emet's epithet (Archivist), and the fact that I headcanon Hythlodaeus as Hades' (twin) brother. 
> 
> Kore, for reference, is the name of the Amaurotine self of my WoL Brona (as you can find in the other XIV fanfics I've written).


End file.
